


Let Me Comfort You

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, During Canon, First Time, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-02
Updated: 2008-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8701309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean is feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. Sam wants to comfort him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** My first ever Wincest flick, please be gentle.

Dean blew the smoke from his lungs in a slow, deep sigh and closed his eyes. The night was dark and lifeless, the moon shining its pale grey light which made the shadows grow longer, more menacing. He, if anyone knew what hid in those shadows, but tonight it didn’t make him feel uneasy. He was numb, tired of worrying, tired of constantly watching over his shoulder, tired of being so goddamn scared for, and of, Sam. Dean took another drag of his cigarette and inhaled the smoke. It tingled in his lungs, and as he blew it out he coughed a little.

 

“Damnit.” 

 

He dropped the fag end on the ground, stepped on it, killed with him foot. Sighing, he reached for the pack he had placed on the windowsill and picked a new cigarette from it. Instead of lighting the fag, he rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. It soothed him almost as much as smoking the damn thing. Dean smiled faintly at the whole business. No wonder so many people got hooked on these little death sticks. 

 

“Dean? Since when have you smoked?” 

 

Sams’ voice interrupted the trail of Deans’ thoughts. He turned around, slowly, to face the younger man standing at the door of the motel room, rubbing his eyes tiredly. 

 

“Who says I smoke? Get back in there, its freezing and you’re not dressed for the occasion.” Sam was wearing the grey t-shirt that had seen better days a decade ago, boxer shorts and socks that were holier than the pope. Dean pointed the filter end of the cigarette towards the door. “Come one, Sammy. In you get.”

 

Sam turned to go back inside, stopped, and turned back to face his brother.

 

“It’s me, isn’t it?”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“What’s keeping you awake. It’s me, isn’t it?”

 

“You know, this might come as a shock to you little brother, but my life does not circle around you. Now get back in there, or do you want me to carry you over the threshold like the whingy little princess you are?”

 

Sam stared right into his brothers eyes, with a stern look, folding his arms across his chest. Dean sighed, turned his head to face the pale full moon for a few seconds before leaping towards Sam, breaching the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Sams waist and lifting his weight on his shoulder.

 

“What are you doing? Stop it!”

 

“Make me, princess. Make me.” Without noting any of the protesting pleads or commands made by Sam, Dean carried him inside the motel room, kicked the door shut behind him and crossed the room to the beds. 

 

“Put me down!”

 

“That’s my intention.” 

 

Dean threw Sam over his shoulder onto the bed. Sam grabbed his shoulder while he was flying through the air, pulling the older man on him.

 

“Goddamn, Sam!” Dean cussed, trying to get up, but Sam grabbed his neck and pulled him down.

 

“Dean, listen to me. I’m sorry, OK? I’m sorry you feel like this, I’m sorry you have to worry about me, I’m sorry!”

 

“Stop it, just stop it, alright? It’s not you, it’s everything! It’s this God forsaken place, it’s this job, it’s everything! Alright? Everything!”

 

“Okay, okay, Dean. It’s OK.” Sam lifted his hand to his brothers cheek, gently shooting him. For some reason, Dean leaned into the comforting touch, his eyes filling up with bitter tears he didn’t want to let out, but could not fight.

 

“No, it’s not OK, Sam! I’m… afraid of loosing you, loosing… you, you’re everything I have, Sammy. I **can’t** loose you.”

 

It was with great difficulty Dean managed to mutter out these words. He was not the kind of guy to cheerfully share his feelings, more likely he bottled them up, kept inside him until they ate him alive, or died in him. Sam if anyone realised this, and the realisation of what these words meant stroke him in the face harder than any punch his brother had ever been able to throw.

 

“Dean, I love you, man. I **love** you. You’ll never loose me.” With these words he pulled his brother to his chest and wrapped his arms around him, holding him tight. For once, Dean didn’t fight. He allowed his brother to hold him, stroke his back, his hair, comfort him. After what seemed an eternity, the tears he had bottled within himself for an uncountable time ran dry, only leaving his cheeks and his jaw wet on where they had trailed down his face. Slowly, Dean lifter his head from his brothers shoulder. It was then when he realised that they still laid there, on the bed, one on top of the other. Or, he on top of Sam. He shifted, awkwardly, to move, but Sams suddenly stronger arms stopped him. He faced his brother with a questioning look, but Sams eyes were dark with something he couldn’t read.

 

“Sam?”

 

Without replying, Sam lifted his hand to Deans cheek, gently stroking it. Dean resisted at first, but something in the way Sam touched him made him lean to the touch. He let a long, tormented sigh through his lips.

 

Sam caught it with his own.

 

The sensation of it made Dean shudder. Not because it would have been unpleasant in any way, but because it wasn’t. 

 

“Sam…” He whispered against those full, tempting lips, but his words got lost when a tongue penetrated his mouth and gently started to explore its depths. 

 

Without any warning, Dean realised he was hard. Harder than he had ever been. So hard it almost ached. The grip of Sams arms had loosened, and Dean pushed himself up to lean on his arms, breaking the kiss.

 

“Dean…”

 

“What… what is this?” He mumbled, unable to move away from his brother, but unable to endure such closeness.

 

“Let me do this for you Dean. Let me… let me show you how much I love you.” Sams voice had a pleading sound to it, and his eyes were dark with emotion Dean was not ready to face.

 

“No. No, you can’t. I… I can’t.”

 

“Of course you can, and I can. Dean…” Sam pulled up and planted a kiss on his brothers chin, his hand now massaging his neck gently. He planted a trail of soft kisses and bites from his jaw to the sensitive skin of his neck. A small, whimpering moan escaped Deans lips, and it encouraged Sam to pull him closer, to a deep, passionate kiss. Dean yielded, giving into the need that burned in him. He needed this, he **needed** Sam right now.

 

“Goddamnit, Sam…” He mumbled as he took control of the kiss, holding his brothers head between his strong hands, penetrating his mouth with his tongue, not to explore, but to conquer. To this kiss Dean poured all his desperation, all his fear, everything dark and hopeless he carried in him. In this kiss, this act, he would find his salvation.

 

Sam moaned into his mouth, and Dean could feel he was hard underneath the thin layer of his boxer shorts. Sam wanted this? Wanted to be ravished, to be taken? Dean brushed against the other mans erection with his hand, as if to test, to make sure. Sam grabbed his shoulders, moaned with a pained, lusty voice against his dominating lips. Dean was sure.

 

He pulled away, only long enough to pull his shirt over his head, and fumble his jeans open. Sam reached towards him to pull him back, but Dean pushed his little brother back on the bed, climbing on top of him, with his free hand pulling the boxers down. Sam was desperately trying to pull his shirt off, and managed to fling it on the floor just in time before Dean pressed his back on the bed.

 

The sensation of skin on skin was overwhelming. Dean felt Sam stroking his back gently, arching towards him every time Dean moved. Then there was the touching of their members, brushing against each other. It could have been the undoing of him, but he grinded his teeth and pulled Sam into another hard, almost violent kiss. 

 

“Dean… It’s alright.” Sam whispers in midst of the kisses, the biting of lips, the groans and sighs as the two men grind against each other, hands roaming up and down each others bodies. “It’s all right.”

 

But to Dean, it’s not all right. Not yet. Not before he can bury the sorrow, the desperation, the fear into Sam. He needs to, he wants to, he **has** to do it.

 

“I want to… Sam, I want to…” He can’t say it. He wants to, so bad, so bad it hurts, but he cannot bring himself to ask for permission to violate his little brother so. 

 

Sam leaned up, kissed his brow. His hand slowly ran down the sculpted torso of his brother, until it reached the sensitive skin of his abdomen. Dean shuddered and the sensation, and groaned out loud when Sams hand travelled lower, touched his aching erection. 

 

“I want you to.” Sam whispered to his ear, with a husky, deep voice. “I want you to.”

 

“I need… I need something to…” Dean pushed himself up, fumbling the drawer of the night stand next to the bed, hoping he could find something there to use. Sam reaches over, calmly, picks up a plastic bottle from the drawer as if he knew exactly where to look.

 

“I’ll be damned.” Dean muttered, when Sam opened the bottled, pouring the colourless substance to his hands. With one of his dashing, irresistible smiles Sam leaned over and placed him hands over the tweaking member of his brother.

 

Dean grabbed his shoulder, as if trying to stay on his knees, bending his torso forward, arching back like a spring. The ecstasy of it all was almost too much for him.

 

“No, stop.” Dean pushed Sam down on the bed, mustering the very last control he had over himself. 

 

Sam allowed himself to be pushed down; he knew that this was what Dean needed. Dean needed to bury his pain into something, and Sam would willingly take it. The older brother climbed over the younger man, his eyes fixed in the dark pools of Sams eyes. With his hand he guided himself towards the entrance of his bliss, Sam took a deep breath in bracing himself. 

 

Dean stopped for a second, hesitated. If he did this, if he went through with it, there would be no turning back. Sam gently grabbed his buttocks and pulled him closer, causing Dean to penetrate him. 

 

There was pain.

 

There was bliss.

 

There was something that was created of the combination of these too and it made both men cry out of ecstasy.

 

For one moment, they were perfectly still. Not moving, only enjoying the completely new unity they had found in this act. Then Dean pushed himself up to lean on his arms, and pushed himself deeper into his little brother. Sam cried out, not of pain anymore, but of pleasure. Dean pulled out a little bit, and thrushed himself back causing Sam to arch and gasp for breath as his member brushed over his prostate. Dean found his rhythm, moving in, out, pushing and pulling, biting Sams neck hard as the pleasure got too much. Sam moved with him, arching his back every time the cock inside him touched his hot spot. 

 

“I love you, Sam, I love you.” Dean muttered, as the pace he had set changed into a faster, stronger one. He pushed his brothers shoulders down, placed one, hard, open mouthed kiss on his lips and bit his teeth into the tender skin of his neck, grunting a long, desperate moan as he came undone. The pulses of his orgasm sent Sam over the edge, making him cry out loud.

 

They both lied there, still connected, panting. Dean suddenly realised his cheeks, his jaw, his face, were covered with wet streams of tears. 

 

He smiled, cuddled next to his naked brother and hid his face to his neck. Those weren’t sad tears, he knew. They were tears of deliverance, freedom, joy. They were tears of love. He let Sam wrap his arms around him and closed his eyes. 

 

He could sleep now.


End file.
